


Live Bait

by MsEllieJane



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Admiral Badass, Fear Factor: Star Trek Edition, Gagh, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Out-Klingon the Klingons, coerced eating, nobody loves me everybody hates me I guess I'll go eat worms..., treat fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsEllieJane/pseuds/MsEllieJane
Summary: Katrina turns a harrowing ordeal at the hands of her enemies into ammunition for her next battle (aka "two times Katrina ate gagh and lived to tell the tale")





	Live Bait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lodessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodessa/gifts).



> This is a trick-or-treat fill (because I had planned to post it on Halloween) for the following prompt by lodessa:
> 
> "As the new head of the Klingon Empire, L'Rell only agrees to initiate diplomatic relations with the Federation on the condition that she is allowed to name the ambassador assigned to Qo'noS: Katrina Cornwell. How does that go?"
> 
> Many thanks to [devovere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devovere/pseuds/devovere) for the beta read!!

Katrina was startled from a fitful half-sleep by the sound of heavy footsteps and loud, unintelligible voices. At the sound of the cell door being unlocked, she slowly dragged herself to a standing position, wincing from the strategically-placed bruises that seemed to be aligned perfectly with her body’s pressure points. She briefly wondered how these brutes were so familiar with the weaknesses of human anatomy and shuddered at the implications.

Her vision clouded as she raised her head to face the intruders but cleared after a few seconds. She was weak from lack of food and water, a tactic she knew her captors were using to make her more pliable under interrogation. She hadn’t cracked yet, but after what she estimated to be at least ten days had ticked by with no rescue attempt from Starfleet, despair had begun to creep in. She braced herself as her usual torturer stalked into the cell, an unsettling look of calm on his face.

She was surprised when he was followed by several more Klingons, including the one she suspected was their leader. The interrogations typically didn’t take place with an audience and she feared some brutal new tactic was about to be implemented. She struggled to keep the look of calm indifference on her face. Her reliable admiral’s mask was failing her, and she could tell from the leering looks and laughter that her captors could sense her growing distress.

She drew a slow breath, willing her spine to straighten and her face to return to a calm state. She wouldn’t flinch; she refused to even blink as she stared at the gathered crowd straight on. The raucous noise halted for a brief moment, a collective breath as they took in her defiance. The stillness was followed by loud shouts in that unfamiliar language, and she could have sworn she caught a look of approval on the leader’s face.

The leader gestured silently, and one of the Klingons stepped forward, carrying what looked like a large serving dish. He placed it on the platform in the center of the cell, the same place where she was routinely restrained and beaten. It took a second for her to grasp that whatever was on the plate was moving.

The leader nodded at the torturer, the one who had the greatest level of fluency in Federation Standard. He still spoke as though the words hurt his mouth.

“You honor us with your presence, Admiral ,” he said with a sneer. “We would like to offer you one of our greatest delicacies as a gesture of our hospitality. You’ve been remarkably resilient , for a human, and have shown no fear. Perhaps you have the honor the rest of your people lack. ”

The gathered Klingons erupted into raucous laughter but were silenced by a few shouted words from their leader. The two door guards stalked over and grabbed her by the arms, shoving her to her knees in front of the platform. At eye-level with the serving dish in front of her, she could see it contained a mound of what appeared to be very large worms. Very large worms that were moving. The squelching sound they made was disconcerting and she looked away in disgust, only to have her head forcefully turned back to face the dish. The Klingon guard kept his hand on the back of her head, tilting her gaze towards the writhing mass.

“ Gagh is a great delicacy for our people. It would be impolite not to share it with our guest. Won’t you have some, Admiral?”

At that, the guards let go of her, and the room went still. She could feel their eyes on her as she stared with fascinated horror at the squirming pile. She fought back her gag reflex as she thought of the earthworms she’d used as live bait when fishing with her grandfather. It had taken her nine-year-old self every last ounce of nerve to even pick up one of those worms, much less impale it with a fishhook.

Katrina knew exactly what they were doing and what she had to do in response. They left the choice up to her, but she knew there was more on the line than just a plate of worms. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time researching the Klingons since the war had begun and knew they prized honor above all else. This plate of gagh was a challenge to her honor and she knew there would be consequences if she backed down.

She took a deep, slow breath in an attempt to steady herself and could see the Klingons looking at her appraisingly, arms crossed.

She focused on not letting her hand shake as she reached out to grab one of the worms. It nearly wriggled out of her grasp and she had to grab it with her other hand to keep it from escaping. There was no artful way to do it, and so she closed her eyes and shoved the worm into her mouth as quickly as possible, chewing numbly a few times before swallowing.

The crowd behind her erupted in roars of what seemed to be approval as she concentrated on not vomiting. The squirming had stopped shortly after swallowing, and she was thankful for that. The worm didn’t have much flavor, and she wondered why something so bland was considered a delicacy. She ruefully reflected that nothing in all her training and years with Starfleet could have prepared her for being force-fed giant worms. If she ever got out, her after-action report would make it into Academy textbooks.

Behind her, the roars had morphed into some sort of chant as the Klingons repeated the same word over and over. If she had to guess, it was probably “eat”. She looked to their leader who gestured towards the dish again.

With a slight sigh of frustration Katrina grabbed another worm and popped it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible, just wanting the ordeal over with. The texture reminded her a bit of the fresh calamari she had eaten once on a trip to Italy, though less tasty and a lot more wriggly. She put her head down and ate two more worms, hoping that her audience would leave her alone once she was finished.

The Klingons made noises of disappointment, which she found curious. She had assumed they were hoping the weak human would become ill and refuse to keep eating, but a quick glance up suggested something different. The anticipatory expressions faces indicated they were looking for a show. She knew acts of bravado were part of Klingon culture and realized they wanted to see the same from her.

Calling upon what was left of her inner strength, she grabbed another worm and held it up for a few seconds, watching it squirm. This seemed to please her audience and they began chanting again. She slowly lowered the worm into her mouth and the chants erupted into what sounded like cheers. This time she only chewed once before swallowing and could feel the worm still wiggling in her throat. It made her cough a few times, but the sensation was strangely pleasant. Perhaps this was what made gagh such a delicacy.

Hoping to use this bizarre situation to gain the upper hand on her captors, she looked the leader in the eye, defiance painted across her face. She grabbed a handful of worms and slowly brought them to her mouth, never breaking eye contact as she took a bite out of the writhing mass. The Klingons went wild, cheering and chanting as she took bite after bite, slime running down her chin. She found the entire situation to be oddly satisfying, though she would never admit it, even under interrogation.

The leader’s expression revealed nothing, even as she slurped up the last few worms like spaghetti noodles to boisterous cheers of the other Klingons. The platter empty, she wasn’t sure what to do next. The crowd grew quiet and seemed to be waiting for her to make the next move.

Annoyed and increasingly nauseous, Katrina wracked her brain for what a Klingon would do in her situation. She had assumed that finishing a plate of giant worms would be enough to gain the respect of her captors, but it seemed she was wrong. Her mind flew through endless pages of analysis by Starfleet’s finest xenoanthropologists and turned up nothing.

She only had seconds to make her move, and instinct took over. Without breaking eye contact, she stood up and grabbed the serving platter. She threw it to the floor with all her strength and screamed at the Klingon leader. The scream turned into something resembling a growl and for a split second, she saw him flinch. He corrected this before anyone else saw, his face hard but nodding, looking impressed. The rest of the Klingons resumed their cheering, and she saw credit chips being passed to the interrogator, who looked pleased.

They had all bet against her, except for him. She raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged in response. Unlike the rest of them, he had seen firsthand how determined she was. He must have known she wouldn’t back down.

Perhaps as a way of thanking her for his new riches, he placed a large vessel of water on the platform in front of her. As she carefully drank, pacing herself to avoid getting sick, she saw the interrogator and the leader exchanging words. The both roared with laughter and clapped each other on the back before the leader departed. As the rest of the Klingons filed out of the cell, the interrogator stayed behind.

“Kol was impressed with the show you put on, Admiral ,” he said with a sinister grin. “Your screaming reminded him fondly of his late wife, who was feared by many.” Kat froze for a moment, mulling this piece of information over before filing it away.

“I suspect you were pleased as well. You certainly made a lot of money off of this ludicrous display.” Her tone remained defiant and her voice rough from screaming. He snorted in response, as he picked up the serving platter but left the scraps of half-eaten gagh behind.

“A new interrogator arrives tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room. “Kahless willing, she will be the one to break you.”

Katrina slumped over as the door to the cell slammed shut and carefully lowered herself to the floor, folding her tattered jacket to use as a makeshift pillow. She had no idea what was to come next, but at least she was no longer hungry and had a good supply of water. As she drifted to sleep, she chucked mirthlessly at the absurdity of the situation.

\---------------

A year and a half later, Katrina found herself in a completely different but equally ridiculous situation when, as the de facto head of Starfleet, it fell to her to represent the Federation in a series of peace talks with the newly unified Klingon Empire.

Everything seemed needlessly gaudy, from her spotless dress uniform with its row of triangular medals, to the outrageously attired Klingons and the cavernous room that had been arranged for the peace talks. She was surrounded by an unreasonably large number of heavily armed guards and the Klingon delegation appeared to have brought twice as many. The cringe-worthy display of one-upmanship left her wanting a stiff drink and a nap.

Instead, she had to make small talk with the woman she considered an ally but who still sent reflexive shivers up her spine. L’Rell had traded in her armor for a dazzling gold gown, and, though once bald, now sported a luxurious head of hair. The ferocious grin was still familiar and strangely comforting.

“It is good to see you again, Admiral .” That slight emphasis of her title caused an unexpected jolt as unpleasant memories surfaced, but she was able to keep the diplomatic mask in place.

“And you as well, Chancellor.” A slight nod, a slight smile, giving nothing away. The hosts led the way to the large table for the negotiations, looking warily at both sides. As they took their seats, L’Rell conversed with some of her entourage, barking orders in a manner befitting her new station. A few moments later, a number of covered dishes and ornate bottles were brought to the table.

“Before we begin, we will toast the new partnership between the Klingon Empire and the Federation.”

“Shouldn’t the toast come after successful negotiations? Toasting now seems presumptive, unless you are trying to put me at a disadvantage with this unfamiliar alcohol. How do I even know it’s safe to drink?” She gestured at the viscous red liquid being poured into a glass in front of her.

“Do you not trust me, Admiral?”

“Experience has taught me not to, but I suppose I will give it a chance for the sake of diplomacy.” She followed the motions of the Klingons in front of her and tossed back the contents of the glass, trying to focus more on the alcohol’s burn than its metallic taste. She managed not to cough like an amateur, and L’Rell looked suitably impressed.

“Something to follow it? It’s never good to start negotiations on an empty stomach.” Katrina was more irritated than surprised as the lid was lifted from one of the serving dishes in front of her. She wanted to roll her eyes at the predictability of her former enemy, but kept her features neutral to derail their plan of shocking and intimidating her.

“ Gagh is a great delicacy in Klingon cul-”

“Yes, I know,” Kat cut her off. “I’m actually quite familiar with it; haven't you heard?” The surprised look on L’Rell’s face revealed that she hadn’t, which could be advantageous.

The squirm of the giant worms was unpleasantly familiar as she grabbed a handful and lifted it up, pretending to inspect it.

“It looks very fresh, much livelier than gagh I’ve had in past. Your new position certainly does give you access to the finest things. I’m quite impressed.” She dropped one of the worms in her mouth and made herself chew it as slowly as possible, pretending to savor the taste. It was better than she had remembered; the freshness really did make a difference.

“I had no idea you enjoyed gagh , Admiral,” said a very shocked L’Rell.

“I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, Chancellor,” she said with a smile, popping another worm into her mouth.

“This has all been lovely, but I think it’s time we started on those negotiations, don’t you think?” L’Rell could only nod as Kat gestured for the dishes to be removed from the table. The unsettled look on her face was downright delicious.

Once the dishes were cleared, Kat sat down with a stack of padds in front of her and folded her hands neatly.

“Let’s get started then,” she said with a smile, knowing she was starting the negotiations with the ball firmly in the Federation’s court, all thanks to a handful of worms.


End file.
